Knife-edge tension is what you get when Barracas Central and Boca Juniors lock horns with the table tighter than a backstreet tango dancer’s shoes—dead even on 17 points, separated only by the thinnest line of hope and head-to-head headaches. They’ll meet at Claudio Fabian Tapia—home of Barracas, cradle of upsets, and, if history is any guide, the stage for 90 minutes of good, old-fashioned Argentine football intrigue.

Now, if you’re coming for goal floods, hold that thought. Barracas Central’s recent outings have been as stingy as a pensioner at happy hour—averaging just 0.5 goals per game over their last 10. Their last five: a trio of draws—2-2 at Tigre, 1-1 at Estudiantes, and 1-1 hosting Belgrano Cordoba—plus a drab 0-0 at Godoy Cruz and a narrow 0-1 slip to Sarmiento Junin. Not exactly samba stuff, but they do have a flair for late drama. Gonzalo Morales’ equalizer at Tigre? Pure adrenaline, the kind that makes you spill your maté.

The heartbeat of Barracas’ scrappy campaign has been Jhonatan Candia, who pops up on the scoresheet nearly as often as he pops up in the referee’s ear. Four goals in the last five matches, all at vital moments, make him the obvious man for Boca to watch—though Morales and the midfield metronome Iván Tapia also deserve a wary glance from any opposition analyst with a notepad and a pension plan.

Flip the page to Boca Juniors, and you find a side wrestling with its own identity. Their recent form reads like a footballing Rorschach test: L1-2 v Belgrano Cordoba, a dazzling W5-0 over Newell’s Old Boys (blink and you missed it—five goals, five different ways), then another loss and a couple of draws. All told, they average a full goal per game over their last 10, which might not sound like much until you realize one of those games looked more like basketball than soccer.

What Boca does bring, week in and week out, is defensive steel—just three goals conceded over six outings before this recent roller coaster. When manager Fernando Gago sets up his troops, the focus is on control, measured aggression, and, on occasion, let’s be honest, utter chaos in both boxes. The man to watch: Miguel Ángel Merentiel. He’s bagged seven in the league already, a fox in the box with more moves than a chess grandmaster. If Barracas gives him a sniff, it could be curtains and carnival songs for the home crowd.

But Boca’s depth is the real story, and it’s not just Merentiel. Rodrigo Battaglia, the engine in midfield, has chipped in with key goals, including a clutch strike against Central Córdoba. Milton Giménez, who was a one-man wrecking crew in that Newell’s rout, brings muscle and menace to every forward thrust. You round out that spine with a healthy roster—no big injury worries reported—and suddenly Boca have options, structure, and the cold-eyed experience to grind out results when artistry fails.

Tactically, this might not be the freewheeling, high-wire act many crave. Expect Boca to seize the ball, dictate tempo, and wait for Barracas to overcommit. Barracas, for their part, will rely on compact defending, swift transitions, and set-piece sneakiness—where Tapia’s delivery and Candia’s opportunism could make a difference. Both sides know how to stifle and frustrate; don’t be shocked if the first half feels like a chess match played with elbows out and boots high.

History gives us little to separate them. Last time out: 1-1, with Boca hogging the ball but unable to break Barracas’ resolve. The numbers give Boca the faintest of edges—about a 36% win probability to Barracas’ 30%, with the draw lurking at 33% for those allergic to commitment. The bookies, as always, hedge their bets, but the sense is Boca’s attacking options, depth, and experience might finally tilt the scales.

For Barracas, this is about proving they belong in the upper reaches, showing that grit and hustle can keep giants at bay. For Boca, whose fans expect silverware and style in equal measure, anything less than all three points feels like a step backward—and the pressure, as usual, is heavier than a Boca defender’s clearance.

There’s a saying in these parts: “Some draws feel like wins, and some wins feel like draws.” By sunset on Sunday, we’ll know which way the wind’s blowing—and who might be dreaming bigger as Argentina’s league enters its next act. Expect nerves, noise, and just enough controversy to keep the post-match phone lines buzzing. After all, in this footballing city, every point is precious, and every mistake is magnified like it’s the only thing happening in the world. Buckle up. This one’s got all the makings of the kind of match you’ll want to say you saw—even if you’ll need a stiff drink after.